


Reminisce

by Nature_Nymph



Category: Berserk
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nature_Nymph/pseuds/Nature_Nymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the time he was toddler to his teenage years, Casca was always amazed by her son, even when he didn't think it. An AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reminisce

He knew that look in his mother’s eye that told him to come to her, as she gestured to him with her fingers too. He was over at Casca’s side in a few strides. Standing a few inches shy of his father’s height, the boy still towered over his mother, who still maintained her petite frame into her middle years. No, he didn’t have Guts’ massive build, but years of traveling, manual work for hire, and taking up the sword from time to time helped him to achieve a sinewy form no less. 

Casca was always amazed by her son, how a being could be a perfect mesh of two individuals, yet have an individuality all his own. She saw herself in him of course, with his dark eyes and slightly tanned skin, but she enjoyed seeing Guts in him more. When he was still swaddled in her arms as babe, she always made comparisons between her son and his father: as an infant, his hair was choppy and short, coal black. He had the nose that Casca found so adorable on Guts (even when Guts digressed the gesture), and the lips that she loved to plant kisses on when her boys were asleep. Even though he was rather reserved as a child, he still had his rambunctious fits - primarily around bath time. She remembered how Guts would smirk out of the corner of her eye, proud of his product. That is until the chore was cast on him.

Now that he was older, his individualism establish, Casca saw much more of a divide in he and his father’s personality and looks. The short locks of hair were no more upon growing into a toddler, and have since grown into longer wisps of hair that he now collected in a small, unruly ponytail. His face was not as rigid and strong as his fathers, but more soft and curvaceous like her own.

But what divided them most was their intent, their vocation. Both Guts and their son were always on the more introverted side, but the boy more so. Always quiet and observant, he’d watch his father swing his massive sword. One day, he made a declaration to his mother: that he wanted to get big and strong so that he could protect her. However, he was unsure of how to accomplish this, other than for the obvious answer that Guts gave. Guts did his best to train his son, teaching him a few handy techniques, but that spark never quite clicked in the boy. Maybe it was Guts’ training technique or his swordplay in general, or maybe it was due to the boy’s gentler nature, but both were left frustrated in the end.

Honestly, Casca never saw her son as a fighter, or at least one who yearned for the battle. And he didn’t need to be. When he would come to her with tears spilled only for her, too ashamed to confront his father, he would ask her if his father hated him because he was weak.

 _"Little one,"_ she would say, _“you AND your father have weaknesses, but you both have your own strengths.”_  Brushing the tears from his swollen cheeks, she’d coo, _“You’ll find your own path one day. And when you do, your father and I will be there for you, no matter what.” Until then,_  she thought, _I still need your protection._

And Casca did, even though it was not physical. Of course she and Guts’ first priority was to protect their little one, but their son gave each of them something that they needed. He might not have had a son that would follow in his footsteps, but Casca believed that Guts didn’t want that from their son. She saw it when Guts looked at him, played with him, how he saw the childhood that he wanted so much but was cruelly denied it living inside of his son. Guts not only saw pieces of himself within his son, but saw what he could have been like had he been given the life that he gave to his son: and even though he didn’t say it, that alone made Guts so happy. 

And what Casca needed from him, her little light…

She was briefly brought out of her reverie when he heard him speak. “What is it, mother?” he asked, in that voice that reminded her of when he was a little boy. She reached up to touch his cheek, unmarred by any scar or stress.

"Oh nothing," Casca replied briskly, almost dreamlike. "I was just thinking," she stalled, not wanting it to appear that she was choking on her words, "I’m just… so happy with the man that you’ve become. No matter what you may think, I’m proud of you." 

The boy, now a man, didn’t need his mother to say anything for him to know what she was really thinking, even though she was giving him that smile that had pain written in the tiny creases, her words still sincere; it was in his nature to tell what others were feeling and thinking, thanks to years of observing how she and his father interacted, how they talked both verbally and not, how they fought from time to time and made up afterwards, and how they went through the odds to raise him, even when he was in doubt of himself. He would always be thankful for what they had given him, yet all he could do was give her what she needed and wanted at this time, even if she wanted to deny it like she always tried to for the sake of her loved ones. He gave her a smile laced with sadness, one that was truer than hers.

"You’re thinking of him right now, aren’t you?" her son asked, parent-like himself. At that point, Casca couldn’t keep her eyes from becoming glasslike. She didn’t want to break into a sob, but still had to catch the few tears with her fingers. No sooner had she started collecting the fallen droplets that Casca felt that tight, strong embrace surrounding her, the one that made her feel so safe and secure. 

Her son muffled his face aside her hair, smelling her familiar and comforting scent. “I miss him too.” 

Casca brought her arms up to return the hug, soothingly rubbing his back as she always did. She felt that he was as in much need of comforting as she was in the moment. They always did so: they were all that they had.

"I know," she answered. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to give it away in the archive warning, but then again, give *what* away exactly? Is Guts gone from this world, or did he drift away, never to return? Was this a what-if scenario in place of the current tragedy, or did Guts and Casca finally earn their happy ending after the fact? 
> 
> I'm not even sure myself, but I still got a little something in my eye while writing this. :'|


End file.
